Legacy
by warmfluffypastries
Summary: Another Episodic rewrite.


August 2000

1130 ZULU

ROCK CREEK PARK

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac's POV

I glanced over my shoulder seeing Harm approaching, the babies were glad to be on another stroll as was per usual these days. That's right babies two of them, Harm actually bragged to Bud about that fact. The doctor was concerned about my weight gain after four months and had done a sonogram surprising us all when she found two heartbeats.

"Two months from now, we'll both be jogging through here with a stroller," Harm panted catching up to me after having jogged the path and coming back to finish walking it with me.

"Thank god, I feel like I'm rapidly spreading in every direction," I laughed placing a hand on my back waddling my way down the path.

"You're beautiful," Harm placed a kiss on my forehead pulling me into a hug.

"And your sweaty, get off me," I groaned feeling his sticky arms on me.

"You know you love it," he laughed hugging me harder, before releasing me and continuing our walk.

"As much as I love meatless meatloaf," I gasped, shuddering at the thought of that disgusting dish.

"Hey," he exclaimed, "enough with the insults." We walked for another couple of minutes in silence Harm's hand entwined with mine. "You ready to go we've got to be in the office soon."

"Yeah, as soon as you convince Rabbs 3 and 4 to get off my bladder," I replied saucily.

"Very well," Harm placed a gentle hand on each side of my belly rubbing until he felt a strong kick under each hand, "Your mother says to stay off her bladder."

"That's nice Commander," I laughed taking his hand again as we walked back to the car.

1424 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Colonel, Commander the Admiral wants to see you ASAP," Tiner spotted us as soon as we stepped off the elevator. He took our covers and briefcases as we walked.

"He can't give me another case Bud and I are in the middle of that espionage case," I sighed while Harm knocked.

"At ease," he waved us off before we could even come to attention, "I tried to get you out of this but Harm I'm afraid you're going to have to go to Russia. They need a JAG to help them with changing their legal system."

"Very well, sir. How long is this expected to take?" Harm asked eyeing me carefully.

"A week, two at the most," he replied, "and Colonel I want you to call me the second something happens and that's an order."

"Nothing should happen sir." I sighed, "we're not due for another six weeks."

"Still just call me," he grunted.

"Yes sir, I suppose I should be lucky I'm not going, after all I'm the one who speaks Russian." I sighed shifting with a kick from one of the babies.

"I had to do fast talking to get you out of it," he looked very unhappy, "You should be catching a flight out of Andrews at 1700. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye sir," Harm and I turned and quickly left the office going straight to his. "You call me whenever," he said as soon as the door was closed, "I don't want to call and disrupt your sleep so you call me."

"I promise I'll call, and I'll call the Admiral as soon as anything happens," I hugged him tightly both babies kicking steadily.

"Hey guys," Harm placed hands over both sets of rapidly moving feet, "I'll miss you too."

"I love you," I whispered running a hand through his hair, "and so do the babies."

1524 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm's POV

I tried out a few different Russian phrases before translating them to English, "I am your friend."

"I thought it might be useful, Sir," Tiner says. "I found it in the library."

"Language Guide for Invading Troops," I read the title, and Tiner nodded affirming the title. "G'dyeh da-raw-gaw no mahsk-voo? Which is the road to Moscow?"

"Well, there's some general stuff in there, too, Sir...if I may?" Tiner asked. I hand him the book, checking my watch as I crossed my arms across my chest, as Tiner flips through it. "G'dyeh oo-bawr-na-ya? Where is the toilet?"

"Well, that'll definitely come in handy," I laugh reaching for the book, "Thanks, Tiner."

"Yes, Sir," Tiner replies and leaves my office, getting up myself heading for Mac's office.

"Mac-" I'm cut off by her raised hand as she looks through a case file.

"Oh, here..." she reads aloud to Bud, "Actual value of the classified information not relevant to a conviction under Article 106A, United States vs. Sheuf."

"The espionage case?" I ask as Bud jots down what she quoted.

"Making a list and checking it twice," she replies.

"Commander Carlton is going away for life," comments Bud, "We personally guarantee it."

"Good," I nod to Bud, looking back to Mac, "Look, I left my notes on the woman suing the Navy."

"Oh, the one we rescued from drowning?" Bud confirms.

"Yeah. Bud'll cover it," Mac says.

"I will?" he asks, surprised.

The Admiral steps in to Mac's office, "I asked Agent Hidachi to come in and review his testimony. I don't want anything slipping through the cracks on the Carlton case." He turns to me, "You're still here."

"Apparently not, Sir," I retorted sarcastically "I'm disappointed I'll be missing the Colonel's case."

"Commander, your assignment is just as valuable as anything we're doing here," the Admiral responded.

"Yes Sir," I reply trying to refrain from rolling my eyes.

"Now, are you prepared to help the Russians?"

"Admiral, their military law on the books is fine. It's the administration that's questionable. I have some suggestions, Sir."

"I'm sure you do. This advisory mission was set up at a high level...be diplomatic."

"Yes Sir," I replied, this time actually rolling my eyes at Mac, "Aren't I always?"

"Just don't shoot holes in any courtroom ceilings," advises the Admiral as he leaves her office.

1304 Zulu

Moscow

"Here's your office," a Russian officer swings open the door to a small dark room, "Welcome to Moscow."

I gave the office a once over before settling on the pile of cases on my desk. "Colonel, I was told I'd be meeting with the senior procurator."

"Oh, he's a very busy man," the Colonel replied.

"I'm sure he is," I returned, "But if he can't find the time maybe he should delegate somebody else to listen to my suggestions."

"You can begin by familiarizing yourself with our, ah...legal processes.

I've brought you a selection of files," the Russian Colonel indicates the desk.

I pick up a file from the pile, "This is from 1963," I announce to the Colonel.

"A broad selection," he answers.

"It's in Russian," I respond.

"I will arrange language lessons," the Colonel tells me obviously not wanting to be argued with.

"Look-I don't have that kind of time," I snap impatiently thinking of Mac had home, I placed the file back on my desk.

"Perhaps you would like to, um...meet ladies. You are our guest," He offers with what he thinks is a genuine smile.

"Colonel, I'm here to help reform the Russian military system of justice," I say firmly holding up my left hand proudly displaying my wedding ring.

"You will have better luck with ladies," the Colonel replies and walks away from the open door, closing it behind him.

I sighed pulling my ringing phone from my pocket, "Rabb," I answered leaning back in my chair.

"Rabb x3," she answered, "how you doing?"

"All my cases are in Russian, and they are supposedly sending me to language classes. They apparently didn't get the message that you weren't coming," I grunted.

Back at JAG HQ

Mac's POV

"Commander Wade Carlton sold out his country. He violated his oath to defend the Constitution in the most heinous way possible-trading his honor for cash. He sold military secrets to Russian agents and then crept away like a thief in the night-"

"Objection," exclaims the defense attorney. "The characterization of my client as a thief..."

"How about a spy in they night, a traitor, a turncoat?" I rephrase a couple different choices settling a hand on my lower back.

"Your Honor?" the defense attorney appeals again.

"Both sides are entitled to some poetic license. You'll get your chance, Mr. Flowers. Overruled," replies Admiral Morris.

I continue with a smile of appreciation towards the Admiral, "We will prove each and every charge and specification and when the evidence is in, I am convinced that you will convict Commander Carlton of the most serious charge that any court martial has to consider-espionage."

In Russia

Harm's POV

"Hello-," I attempt to speak to the person on the other end in a Russian phrase, "Hello?" The door swings open and abruptly and a drunk Russian Captain walks up to the wall and reaches for his fly as if to relieve himself, right there on the wall.

"HELLO-HELLO!" I exclaim confused as the Russian turns to look at me.

"Uh oh, this is not the toilet?" he asks surprised.

"Nyet, no," I replied shaking my head for emphasis, hoping that maybe he wasn't so drunk that he understood the gesture.

"This use to be the toilet," the Captain replies re-zipping his pants, as he turns to talk to me.

"I can believe that," I remarked dryly, "It's not the toilet now."

"You are the American," he slowly realizes.

"Yes," I reply carefully.

"And already at work," he observes, clearly either becoming completely sober or was pretending to begin with.

"Well, not quite," I correct, "I don't speak or read Russian, so..." I stood up.

"I can help," the Captain says picking up a file and opening it, "Olmsk

Garrison," he begins, "A tank mechanic ran away and broke the window of a butcher shop and stole 20 kilos of lamb."

"Sounds serious," I say flexing my arms across my chest.

"Also Olmsk Garrison," he continues, "Three privates hijack a truck of tomatoes."

"Maybe they were going to get together and make a shish ka bob," I joke to my apparently new friend's smile.

He laughs and gives me a thumbs up and then flips to the next page of the file, "Again, Olmsk Garrison: Adjutant found shot in dispute with local mafia boss. They fight over ownership of a nightclub. They were partners, hmm?"

"His men were stealing food and he has enough money to own a nightclub?

Sounds like he was stealing their pay," I concluded putting the pieces together.

"Exactly," he responds seriously dropping the drunken act all together.

"You're not drunk," I tell him just as seriously "Captain..."

"Volkonov," He reveals stepping back to close the door to the office. "And you're not...a naïve and stupid American, Commander Rabb."

"Thank you," I reply politely.

"I just wanted to see," says Volkonov.

"Why?" I asked a bit confused.

"Because in these bad days for the Russian army there is so much corruption," he explains, "About which some of my superiors are complacent."

"These the same superiors who stuck me in the toilet, here?" Captain Volkonov nods, "Some do-gooder in the Kremlin arranged your mission...but these people see no advantage in it."

"But you do?" I guessed.

"I want to go after one of the corrupt ones. A Colonel-General. And I need help. An objective outsider will be useful," the Captain confesses.

"Especially one with protection as an American guest, huh?" he smiles and nods, "Do you have anything better to do?"

Mac's POV

"Commander Carlton first came under suspicion when he showed up in surveillance photos. He was with Andre Suknov, an intelligence operative at the Russian embassy," The witness answered Bud's previous question.

"And that led the Bureau to put Commander Carlton under surveillance?"

Bud asks.

"That's correct," he answers.

"Agent Hidachi can you tell us what happened on July twelfth of this year?" Bud requests.

"I followed Commander Carlton from the Pentagon to a strip mall in Arlington where I saw him make a dead drop," Agent Hidachi tells Bud and the court.

"Dead drop?" Bud questions.

"He put a briefcase into a used clothing bin run by a charity organization," he explains the term, "An hour later, a Russian national dressed in coveralls with the name of the charity on them opened the box."

"And what did you do?" Bud asks.

"I detained the Russian and took possession of the briefcase," Agent

Hidachi says.

"Referring to exhibit seven?" Bud queries, holding up a briefcase.

"Yes. It contained several computer disks," Agent Hidachi says.

"As previously testified, those disks contain deployment schedules for the Atlantic fleet, bidding specifications for the next generation joint strike fighter, and a variety of other files from Naval intelligence?" Bud asks.

"That's correct," he confirms, "Then a judge granted us a search warrant. We arrested the defendant and searched his home." I noticed Commander Carlton, lean over and whisper something into his lawyer's ear.

"And what did you find there?" asks Bud.

"Thirty-eight thousand dollars in a frozen waffle box," replies Agent

Hidachi.

Bud shakes his head with a chuckle, "Thank you, Agent Hidachi...Your witness."

Mr. Flowers rises, but Admiral Morris interrupts. "Mr. Flowers, I'm going to save that for morning," he says glancing at his watch. "This court will recess until zero-nine-hundred." He bangs his gavel to dismiss the courtroom.

Mr. Flowers strolls over to the prosecutors table, "Colonel, we need to talk," he says.

Out in the parking lot, as we approached Mr. Flowers and Commander

Carlton, an officer passes and I return the salute he offers. "What's wrong with meeting in my office, Mr. Flowers?" I question annoyed that I had to come all the way down here in this heat while being seven and a half months pregnant, "You don't like the décor?"

"I don't like what might be hidden in the décor," Mr. Flowers replies.

"You think we'd bug you?" I ask a little surprised, but also becoming more annoyed.

"My client wishes to discuss a plea in exchange for his cooperation," says Mr. Flowers.

"Cooperation about what?" I ask becoming slightly sarcastic. "We know what he gave up and whom he gave it to. We know he worked alone. We're done, Staff Sergeant," I motion to Carlton's guard.

"You think you know everything, Colonel?" Carlton calls out.

"I know you're going to prison for the rest of your life," I reply as he is being forced into the car by the guards.

"You should listen to me-," he pleads as Bud and I turn and walk back towards the building.

"Colonel, at least keep an open mind," says Flowers.

"He pleads guilty, I'll listen to his confession," I offer with even more sarcasm.

"You're removing any incentive," he answers.

"Incentives for what? What does he have to say?" Bud questions.

"I don't know," admits Flowers.

"He's desperate. You have to listen to him; we don't," Mr. Flowers ducks and Bud puts himself between me and the car as it explodes and is consumed by flames, effectively killing Carlton and two Marine guards I turn to look letting a small sigh escapes. "Thanks Bud."

0215 Zulu

RABB RESIDENCE

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Harm, you're over-reacting," I say somewhat exasperated.

"Mac-you were close enough to that bomb to scorch your hair," he answers, "Thank god Bud was there."

"So I got a few split ends," I quip lightly.

"Sarah, for once be serious," he admonishes her mildly.

"I'm fine and so are the babies, the Admiral made us go to the hospital to get checked over."

"Well your case is over now so I guess by the time I get back you'll be on maternity leave," he gives up.

"I don't know about that Commander," I replied, we've had this conversation before, "you know I want to work up until the delivery."

"Wishful thinking," he admits.

"Don't you have to get up early and start your new job in the morning,"

I ask, hoping he doesn't hear the yawn I let loose.

"Marine you better get in bed, and call me, whenever. I love you guys."

"I have to get an early start tomorrow," I tell him, "We love you too."

Harm's POV

"I was conscripted under communism," Captain Volkonov tells me as we walk outside. "I was going to do my time and then go back to school to study poetry. Communism died and I didn't need poetry, so the Army sent me to Moscow State University to study law. This is my car," he indicates the vehicle just before we pass it. "For the first time in Russian history, the laws were going to matter," Volkonov continues over the roof of his car as they ready to get in.

"Well, I studied the codes. The laws are fine," I answer over the roof as well.

"In books," he accepts. "In books even communism sounds just fine. But in practice, anybody they want to get, they get; and anybody they don't want to get..." he indicates with a nod and a wave that they get off. We climb in car and Alex drives off, we eventually pull up in front of a very large house with a large yard, set behind a wrought iron fence.

"307 Pushkin Prospect. This is the home of Colonel-General Arkidy Krylov," Alex informs me, "Sixteen rooms, a dozen baths, sauna, four car garage, five cars, but his salary is 3000 Rubles a month--$110."

"Maybe he rents out some of the rooms," I suggest with a fake smile.

"HAH-maybe," Alex says with a smile, turning to look back at the house. "Maybe he diverts some of his own man's pay and invests it in a pyramid schemes, maybe he shakes down businessmen for 'krisha'...military protection, maybe he sells weapons."

"And they won't let you move against him," I surmise for myself.

"Not enough evidence," Alex replies with a shake of his head. "This house is enough evidence."

"He sells arms?" I ask in disbelief.

"Even to the Chechens," Alex says.

"You're fighting the Chechens," I thank myself for being 'Captain Obvious'.

"He's fighting the Chechens. He's deputy commander of Western Caucuses Forces," Alex informs me, "Apparently he doesn't care."

"Well, the Russian people care. I've read the papers. There's anti-

Chechen hysteria," I answered.

"We prefer to call it pro-Russian patriotism," Alex replies.

"Whatever-So all we have to do is catch him selling weapons to the enemy. Then nothing can protect him."

"That's all?" Alex laughs scornfully. "We go to Chechnya and catch him in the act?"

"Well, do you have anything better to do?" I ask echoing his earlier words and he just smiles.

Mac's POV

"Anything Commander Carlton didn't try to sell?" Admiral Chegwidden asks as he, Bud and I sort through the boxes and piles of evidence in one of the conference rooms. "Maintenance reports of Los Angeles class submarines," he continues and throws down the file in disgust. "Test results for a failed experiment with mine-seeking dolphins...it's quite a list."

"Commander Carlton went through the Pentagon like it was a yard sale, Sir," Bud comments, "He shipped it all to the Russians; the garbage as well as the goodies."

"Ship's Technical manual for Turbine Generators, huh..." the Admiral reads. "What's this?"

I glance over to see what the Admiral is looking at, "Uh, schematic drawing of some kind of industrial facility, Sir."

"It says rouge. What was it, a make-up factory?" asks the Admiral.

"We never determined what is what, Sir," I admit trying to keep from blushing.

"Maybe they killed him to make him stop sending them so much junk," the Admiral comments picking up another item. "Road Map to Michigan, hmm...All right, so there's the fatal secret?"

"We're looking at everything again, Sir. FBI wire taps, surveillance photos..."

"Phone records, Sir," Bud adds looking at one. "Carlton started calling one new number after he was confined. Ma'am..." Bud hold out the papers for her to look at I walk around the table to him.

"Area code 999. I don't think that exists," I think aloud looking at the Admiral who just nods to indicate that I should call the number and find out I pull the phone over and dial.

The phone rings until a male voice answers, "Yes?"

"Hello. I got your number from Wade Carlton," I tell the man on the other end.

"Never heard of him," replies the man.

"Webb?" I question recognizing the voice.

"Mac?" he answers back.

1411 Zulu

Russian Army Base

Khankala, Chechnya

Harm's POV

"So, Capitan Volkonov, Moscow remembers us after all?" says Colonel General Krylov.

"We are all following your progress subduing the Chechen bandits, Sir," says Alex. "But you must know that. I'm sure you return home occasionally to see your wife...family."

"When duty allows," he says and turns to me, "Commander, I rather gathered your country is disappointed in our conduct in this war."

"Believe me, Sir, I'm not here to make judgments," I replied.

"Tell me then, why are you here?" the General asks looking to me again.

"I'm on an advisory mission, Sir, from the International Institute of Military Jurisprudence to consult on the modernization of your system of military justice," I give my mission statement.

"Has there been any complaints?" The General asks.

"I wouldn't know, Sir. Ahhh-the request came for the consultation came from the office of your minister of defense," I reply.

"Probably the same way the minister of finance asked your country for a 50 billion dollar loan guarantee. Did the minister of defense also suggest that you pursue your mission in Chechnya?" the General asks.

"Well, Sir, justice is always hardest to administer in front line conditions. I thought if I saw how it worked here, it would give me a feeling for the entire situation," I think quickly. Alex looks at him with relief and appreciation.

"Well, of course it is an honor to cooperate with the International Institute for Military Jurisprudence. I will arrange for you to see anything you want," offers the Colonel-General.

"There is the Shunzha River, Commander," the helo pilot points out as he takes us to see anything we want, "It used to float barges to the oil fields when the oil fields were working."

"You speak very good English, Sergeant," I comment to the pilot.

"Thank you, Sir," he replies.

"Where are the Chechen lines?" I ask looking down at the land beneath us.

"In the mountains, but they have a bad habit of not sticking to their lines, Sir," says the pilot.

"I heard they shot down an aircraft near Bachi-yurt and attacked an armored train near Gudermes."

"Gudermes, Commander?" the pilot questions. "Not possible."

"The Chechens put it on their website," I reply.

"If you believe everything Chechens say, you cannot be a very good lawyer...Sir," replies the pilot.

"Can you take us to Kamyshev?" Captain Volkonov asks.

"The armory, Sir?" asks the pilot.

"Yeah, that must be well guarded," the Captain comments. "Can you take us there?"

"Is restricted to those with proper authorization, Captain," the Sergeant answers.

"General Krylov said we could go anywhere we wanted," I reply to the Sergeant.

"That's not what he told me, Sir," the Sergeant replies with a grin. Captain Volkonov just shakes his head.

Back in D.C.

Mac's POV

Bud, Webb and I walked near the Mall and the Washington Monument, "Webb, I know it's against the CIA blood oath, but could you, for once, just answer a question?" I ask once again becoming irritated with being outside in the summer weather.

"No," he replies succinctly.

"Commander Carlton is dead. The case is closed," I try a different tactic.

"Then why are we here?" Webb asks.

"Why did he call you?" I ask but he doesn't reply. "Webb, two Marine guards were killed."

"Oh-right. There's not much to tell," he gives in.

Bud speaks up, "He called you four times and all you talked about was the Redskins?"

"He offered to go double; to provide misinformation to the Russians, but it was too late. He'd already been arrested," Webb reveals.

"But he kept calling?"

"He was desperate; claimed to know something big. I figured I'd wait till you convicted him; I'd have more leverage," Webb says.

"You don't know what the big secret is?" I ask curiously.

"Nope."

"Who would?" I ask.

"Well, the Russians are the ones he was in the secrets business with," Webb remarks.

"Well, there's a man that he dealt with at the Russian embassy named Andre Suknov," recalls Bud.

"Andre Suknov, a Colonel in the SVR-or whatever the KGB is calling itself this week," Webb confirms.

"Where was Suknov when the bomb went off?"

"Geneva. He left the states two hours after Carlton was picked up and hasn't been back," Webb tells them. "He probably would have been on his way home pretty soon anyway."

"Why?" asks Bud.

"When he worked at Moscow Central, he had a falling out with his superior named Vladimir Putin," says Webb.

"The same Putin who is now the Russian president?" Bud asks.

Webb nods, "It's going to be hell on Suknov's career, but he still has friends in the military. If he had Carlton killed it was probably on their say so."

"Why?" I ask.

"Well, I don't think they'll tell you, but the first one I'd ask is a nasty piece of work called Colonel-General Arkidy Krylov," Webb says.

1620 Zulu

Russian Army Base

Khankala, Chechnya

Harm's POV

"I could use a little food. How about you?" I asked Captain Volkonov once we exit the helo.

"Could you direct us to the officer's mess, Sergeant?" Alex asks the helo pilot.

"Beyond the fuel tanks, but I don't know if Commander Rabb can stomach the food," the Sergeant remarks.

"Do you hate all Americans or just me, Sergeant?"

"Do you think all Russians are idiots, Sir, or just me?" Zhukov answers my question with one of his own, Alex orders him to explain himself.

"You are here to inspect our military justice system. Do you expect anybody to believe that?" he asks.

"Why are we here, Sergeant?" I ask patiently.

"Because we are war criminals, Commander, massacring the 'angelic'

Chechens. That's what the Europeans say and the Americans..."

Alex looks at me and I nod for him to explain, "We are here to investigate corrupt Russian officers who are selling weapons to angelic Chechens. Not the soldiers who are doing their duty."

Sergeant Zhukov nods and looks around surreptitiously. "Ten days ago I was shot down over the Urus-Martan," he tells them. "I found a fragment of the missile. It was an Igla...Russian."

"How do you think the Chechens got this missile?"

"I don't know, Sir," answers the Sergeant. "I know the rumors."

"The rumors about Colonel-General Krylov?" asks Captain Volkonov.

"The General and I have not discussed them, Sir," says Zhukov. "Do you have proof?"

"No. Do you know where we can get proof?"

"He is my commanding officer," Sergeant Zhukov remarks, "He can send me into Chechen territory. He can have me killed."

"He already nearly got you killed with that missile. I don't know how many of your comrades have been that lucky," I point out.

"General Krylov controls the armory at Kamyshev," Zhukov tells them.

"People say sometimes the supply convoys from Kamyshev reach the troops with fewer weapons than the manifests list."

"He sells weapons to the Chechens and delivers half empty crates to his own troops," I surmised the situation.

"I am to provide the aerial reconnaissance for a convoy from Kamyshev tomorrow."

"It might be interesting to see what's in those boxes," says Captain Volkonov.

"Or what isn't," I raise an eyebrow.

"That's the convoy from Kamyshev," Sergeant Zhukov tells us as we fly over the convoy.

"Set it down in front of them," I instruct.

"I've been ordered to Bamut," the Sergeant informs us as we climb out of the helo. "I'll be back as soon as I can." I give him a thumbs-up that I heard him before Alex and I head toward the convoy as Sergeant Zhukov takes off again.

"I'm Captain Volkonov," I deduce that what he says anyway to one of the soldiers in Russian.

"Lieutenant Foteyev," the soldier responds with a salute. Alex explains who we are and what we are doing here before nodding to the other men.

"The manifest says 15 Igla missiles like the one that shot down Sergeant Zhukov," Captain Volkonov says disgustedly walking over to me.

"That's exactly what's in this truck."

"Well, you said 20 cases of AK 47s...they're all here," I respond glancing at the truck.

"What did you expect?" asks the Lieutenant.

"We have proved exactly nothing," comments the Alex angrily.

"Captain, I would like to move again soon," says Lieutenant Foteyev, "The bandits don't come to this part of the country much, but we should reach our destination before nightfall."

"Don't you usually travel with an armed escort, Lieutenant?" I asked looking around at the topography.

"Yes, Sir," answers the lieutenant, "Each escort takes us to the edge of their sector. Our armored vehicles from Story Achkoi turned back an hour ago."

"And your air recon was just sent elsewhere."

"The bandits don't come in this part of the country much," Foteyev reiterates.

"Unless someone tells them there is a lightly guarded weapons convoy," comments Captain Volkonov, "Where is your next armed escort?"

"They were diverted to Bamut," says the Lieutenant, "There was...terrorist activity there."

"That's why the weapons are still here," I deduce, "This convoy is being set up for an ambush."

Mac's POV

I open the front door to the silence of coming home alone; I place the groceries on the counter. I was going to call Harm but decided against it knowing he was probably in the middle of something. I was about to start dinner when the doorbell rang.

"Evening, Colonel," Clayton Webb greeted when I opened the door, "Since you're so interested in the Carlton murder, I thought you might want to hear the forensics results."

"Webb, you said you had forensics," I interrupted his search through the groceries on the counter.

"Yes, Colonel," he gets the hint. "This is 'need to know'." Clay gives me a look. I nod, "Analysis of the bomb residue indicates Semtex," he tells me, "Very popular behind the old Iron Curtain."

"And about as easy to get as Coca-Cola," I comment, "How was it detonated?"

"Remote control," Clay says, "The killer was watching."

"He was there?" I ask in surprise.

"You could have waved to him if you hadn't been distracted by pieces of a Ford flying over your head," he tries to joke.

"Did he leave anything we can trace?" I asked hopefully.

He reaches into his inside coat pocket and pulls out a small electronic component in a Ziploc bag, "This was under a bush 50 yards from the car. It's a fragment of a remote control from a toy boat. A specialty model sold over the Internet...Only 45 shipped to the Washington, D.C. area in the past three months."

"Forty-five?" I asked in disbelief.

"When do you want to start?" he asks in response.

Harm's POV

"Lieutenant, turn this convoy around," Captain Volkonov orders the Lieutenant.

"On whose authority, Sir?" the Lieutenant asks. Before Captain Volkonov can answer the Lieutenant is shot in the chest, all hell breaks loose and bullets are flying every which way. I dive for cover as does Alex, who grabs a weapon from an open crate in order to return fire; I grabbed a rifle from a dead soldier and returned fire as well. Although I was able to kill a couple of the bandits, but quickly decided there were too many of them.

"So we go down shooting," replies Alex, "They will sing songs about the fighting barristers."

1456 Zulu

NEAR THE CHECHNYAN-INGUSHETTA BORDER

The firing continues intensely. It seems that Alex and I are the only two left alive, all the drivers of the convoy having been shot by the rebels. Realizing that they are not going to be able to stave off the bandits, Alex and I take off across the road, leaving the convoy to the rebels, who jump in and drive off, weapons and all.

1701 Zulu

KENSINGTON, MARYLAND

Mac's POV

Bud, Webb, and I pulled up in front of a brick house. Bud prattles on about how he's worried about having to play with his new daughter. I suggest she may like football and to relax a little about it. Bud asks Webb what he thinks. Webb's only comment is that they can grab lunch after they check out this lead.

"Somebody here ordered a hyper turbo cabin cruiser with remote control," Webb says as they approach the front porch. The door opens just before the as we reach the front porch.

"Hello, Sarah. It's delightful to see you again," says Mark Falcon, a.k.a.

Major Sokol.

I know my look isn't not pleasant at all, "Webb, you know Mark Falcon," I deadpan.

"Also known as Major Sokol of the Russian Federal Security Service," Clay comments.

"You're looking for a killer," Mark says. "He was here, but he's gone."

"How do we know we're not looking at him?" Webb asks.

"I only arrived in Washington last night," says Mark. "My plane ticket and Visa are in this pocket." He indicates his coat. "I must say, Sarah, you're looking very beautiful." I roll my eyes placing my left hand, after flashing my rings of course, on my rounded belly.

Harm's POV

"How the hell are we going to get out of here?" I ask looking around, noticing how stranded we actually are.

"Eventually somebody will come down this road," Alex answers glancing up the road.

"The Russians or Chechens?" I question looking down the road.

"Would rather try to walk back to our lines?" the Captain asks.

"Which way would that be?" I ask glancing around again.

"That depends on what the Chechens did last night," says Volkonov.

"They're highly motivated against us, you know. Stalin deported their entire nation to Siberia. Thousands died."

"Maybe one of your Sergeants is sympathetic to their cause," I suggest thinking of the young Sergeant who had been shot down less than a week ago.

"Sergeant Zhukov?" the Captain says.

"He said he was coming back," I point out, "What did he do...forget?"

0343 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac's POV

I groaned pulling myself from the bed wondering who in the world would be knocking at this time of night, "Sarah," greets Mark Falcon from the front stoop. "I'm ah...interrupting?" he asks.

"Only my sleep, we pregnant women tend to do that" I bit sarcastically.

"Well if you have a minute, Sarah?" Mark questions motioning past me, "I've come up with some information on the assassin. I'm afraid it's rather sensitive," giving me that same look Webb did.

Harm's POV

Alex and I took cover in some bushes when we heard the sound of a helo approaching. When we realized it was Zhukov we come out of hiding as Zhukov jumps down from his cockpit, walking over and looking at one of the dead soldiers.

"Sergeant-" I call out getting his attention, when he turns around I land a solid punch knocking him to the ground. "What'd you do come back to count the bodies?"

"You're alive," Zhukov exclaims, wiping blood from his mouth.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," I was becoming angry fast, not only had we been out here for hours I know whether or not anyone as tried to call me.

"I've been trying to find you," says Sergeant Zhukov, "I just found out the convoy did not arrive."

"Now who's treating who like an idiot? When we told you we suspected General Krylov, you picked this convoy, you dropped us here just before it was ambushed, and you took off on some imaginary radio call."

"It was real," he insists, "I-I was ordered to Bamut to provide recon for an armored company."

"You're lying," I accuse staring him down.

"I would not lie to the son of Lieutenant Harmon Rabb," the young soldier says, getting my attention quickly.

Mac's POV

"His name is Vasily Rokotov, he killed Commander Carlton." Falcon shares a dossier of the killer with Bud, Webb, and I in one of the conference rooms at JAG HQ.

"Something familiar about him," I think flashing back to the officer I had saluted right before I spoke to Carlton's lawyer and right before the car blew up.

"He used to be in the Russian army-demolitions expert," Mark says.

"How do you know he's our guy?" Clay asks.

"There are factions within the Russian intelligence. Mine had surveillance on Rokotov's contact in the Russian embassy," Mark explains.

"Who is, I gather, in some other faction, which includes General Arkidy

Krylov?" Webb asks.

"Apparently," Mark confirms.

"Why would they want Carlton killed?" I think aloud.

"Well, that's something you can tell me, Sarah," Mark says. "You have the material Carlton gathered for them, don't you?"

"No. Don't you?" I responded.

"Not all of it," Mark answers, "The operation was part rogue. We did know that Rokotov was paid for some unspecified job."

"Killing Carlton," Bud says.

"And also for an earlier unspecified job that was canceled and presumably rescheduled," Mark tells us.

"So, this Rokotov is out there killing somebody else? Where is he?" I asked, wondering if Harm could have somehow gotten himself involved in all of this from his side.

"We don't know," admits Mark. "The job that was canceled was somewhere in the United States, outside Washington."

"Carlton had a road map of Michigan," Bud offers.

"What about Michigan?" Webb asks when he takes note of Mark's sudden interest.

"Anything else?" Mark asks Bud.

"Well, there was a plan of a building-some kind of factory," Bud says.

"Roberts, not another word," Webb orders turning to Mark, "Tell us."

"No," Mark says, collecting his briefcase and readying to leave, "No, it's my business now."

"Roberts, place him under arrest for espionage," Webb instructs Bud.

"He's not subject to military jurisdiction," Bud replies.

"Then we'll make a citizen's arrest until the FBI gets here," Clay pulls out his weapon.

Mark just scoffs at Webb. Falcon turns to me, "Sarah-what happened to our spirit of cooperation?"

"Mark-tell," I order, "and please don't test me I've got two Rabbs sitting on bladder nothing you could say would make me agreeable."

"President Putin was scheduled to visit the United States in June. His trip was canceled," Mark tells us, "His itinerary was never announced. He was supposed to tour a car factory...in Detroit."

"Rouge," says Bud, grabbing a map off the top of a box and opening it up. "This could be the Ford River Rouge plant."

"So, Carlton was killed because he guessed?"

"They were going to kill the president of Russia," Mark confirms, "And they still are." The four of us exchanged glances.

Harm's POV

"What do you know about my father?" I demanded from the young Sergeant.

"Lieutenant Harmon Rabb Senior; Phantom pilot in Vietnam; shot down in 1969. Taken to Russia by KGB; escaped from Siberian gulag and taken in by a farm woman in the village of Swischevo; died defending her from an attack by drunk Russian soldiers," Zhukov lists the highlight of his knowledge.

"Where'd you get this information?"

"The farm woman who took him in...she is my mother," he reveals.

Mac's POV

Bud, Webb, and I had set up a meeting to inform the Admiral of our theory on what happened and what still could possibly happen. "So, the same man who killed our spy is now off trying to kill the president of Russia?" the Admiral asks looking to each one of us for confirmation.

"That's the way it appears, Sir," I answered from my seat.

"And we know this because someone in Maryland ordered a toy boat over the Internet?" he asks somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"A piece of which ended up in the bomb that killed our spy, Sir," I explain.

"And according to Mark Falcon, the assassin is Vasily Rokotov, worked for a rogue faction of the former KGB," Bud adds.

"Mark Falcon works for some faction or the other of the former KGB," the Admiral seems highly annoyed now.

"Sir, you were with us in Russia when Falcon saved my life and Commander Rabb's," I know Mark's not the greatest guy in the world but he saved my life I owe him some respect.

"He would have used you for target practice, Colonel, if you had been on the other side of the fence from him on that mission," the Admiral grunts rather bluntly, "The question is now which side of the fence is he on."

"Just what I was thinking, Admiral," Webb finally pipes in; I shoot him a look before turning back to the Admiral.

"You know, Webb, it really bothers me that our brains may be working in tandem," the Admiral remarks, "So, what else are we thinking?"

"That Colonel Mackenzie should go to Russia immediately," I nod my approval of Webb's statement not meeting the eyes of my CO.

"Why?" asks Chegwidden, "From what you just told me Falcon said that the Federal

Security Service was taking care of the situation. It's their problem. Not to mention the fact that Rabb would kill us all if anything happened to her or those babies."

"If the president of Russia gets assassinated, it's our problem," Webb disagrees, "We don't want Russia reverting to communism or going ultra-nationalist or descending into anarchy."

"And you think Falcon does?" Bud asks.

"We can't be sure what side he's on," Webb tells us, "It's in our own national interest to help him, whether he wants us to or not."

"Isn't that the CIA's job?" the Admiral asks dryly.

"We can't work openly over there...Mac can," Webb says.

"In Russia...as a United States Marine JAG officer?" the Admiral looks slightly confused.

"As a United States Marine JAG officer who is pursuing the assassin who killed the defendant you were prosecuting for espionage and who murdered two Marine guards," Webb answers confidently.

"I would love to nail him, Sir," I say in my own defense.

"Webb, you just want a stalking horse to stir things up," the Admiral says with a shake of his head.

"So?" he replies boldly, with a shrug.

"All right, Mac, go get 'em," approves the Admiral, "but the second Harm comes after me, I'm sending him right back to you."

"Yes, Sir," I pull myself slowly from my chair waving off all the hands for support and come to attention before turning to exit the office, Bud following closely behind.

Harm's POV

"Your mother... and my fa... my father?" I stammer in udder disbelief knowing I must look like a fish out of water.

"He is my father, too," he replies just as confidently as I would with regard to my paternity. I just stare at the young Russian suddenly realizing we have the same Rabb eyes and apparently the same love for being in the air.

2329 Zulu

NEAR THE CHECHNYAN-INGUSHETTA BORDER

"Last time I saw him I was five," I remark with wonder.

"Do not blame him," he requests, "He'd been a prisoner for eleven years. He had no hope of getting home. He never forgot you. He used to tell my uncle stories-how you and he carved your names on...what do you call it...like a little railroad?"

"It's called a roller coaster, nobody else knew that."

"I would have told you sooner, but I thought you were here to find evidence of crimes against my comrades." He replies solemnly, "If that was so, I did not want to know you even if you are my brother."

"I'm arranging transportation to Moscow," Captain Volkonov says, walking over to them from the helo, "There Sergeant Zhukov can explain what was the real reason he dropped us at the weapons convoy about to be attacked."

"I didn't know, Captain," Sergei answers firmly.

"He didn't know," I answer taking the young man for his word, if he was a Rabb he wouldn't lie about this.

"Are you believing this?" Volkonov asks, surprised.

I nod, "I'm believing this," Sergei gives a small smile at my acceptance of him.

0554 Zulu

SHEREMYETEVO AIRPORT

MOSCOW

Mac's POV

I let out a relieved sigh as we touched down, rubbing my belly trying to sooth the two bouncing babies, "Well, you can drop by the hotel while I go to the embassy or you can come with me," Webb says as we exit the airport.

"Boss! Boss, I am here!" Alexei the cab driver hails Webb. "Boss you are good? Beautiful Colonel, I have been living right," he exclaims and I can't help but grin, "You have come back to me," Alexei picks up my luggage.

"Mac, you remember Alexei?" Webb asks tongue in cheek.

"How could I forget?" I answer with my own question.

"This time I will show you the real Russia-something you can remember forever," Alexei tells me heading for his cab.

"Still working for the CIA, Alexei?" I pause briefly, "And the FSB...and the KGB...oh, and the Russian mafia?"

"And me," a voice calls from behind us; the three of us turn to see Mark Falcon.

"Alexei, I thought you were on my nickel today," Webb remarks.

"The home team can be very persuasive," Alexei replies.

"Falcon, we're here on US government business," Webb tells him.

"That's funny," Mark replies evenly, "This doesn't look like Kansas."

"Mark, Vasily Rokotov is a fugitive from American justice," I interrupt them.

"Damn it, Sarah," Mark steps up to me so close that I'd have to back up or I'd fall down due to the babies, "He's part of a conspiracy to kill our president-my president...you two start chasing him around and you're going to spook him or spook his friends. You'll drive him underground-don't you understand that? You're being deported."

"Falcon," Webb interrupts him, "How about we work for you? You know you can trust us. We have no possible motive to kill your president. Can you say the same for your colleagues?"

"All right," Mark nods his agreement, "You do what I say, when I say, and how I say."

"You're the boss," Webb offers him, "I'll just stop by the embassy first...if that's all right with you."

"Fine, we'll take my car first," Mark answers.

"While you two are watching each other, I'll find Harm and say hi," I tell them thinking it would definitely be nice to see him.

"He left Moscow," Mark tells us, "He went to Chechnya with one of our more...enthusiastic prosecutors to investigate Colonel-General Krylov."

"Krylov? Harm's in the middle of our murder investigation?" I ask surprised even a little confused.

"Rabb doesn't know that," Mark answers, "He and a friend are looking into stolen weapons."

"Well, somebody should tell him," I decide knowing that if we don't he'll end up getting himself killed or worse a young Russian soldier.

"The less he knows, the safer he is," Mark disagrees, "He won't alarm

General Krylov."

"He-he doesn't even know Russian," I point out, the babies have picked up on my worry and start to kick wildly.

"Good. Maybe the General will think he's a tourist," Mark says matter-of-factly, "Go to your hotel. I'll see you later." Mark gets into his car waiting for Webb.

"See ya," Webb nods in agreement with Mark getting into the car, as well. I sigh watching the two men drive off.

"So, beautiful Colonel," Alexei says as he opens the taxi door for me offering a hand as I lower myself in.

"You want to take the scenic route, stop for a refreshment--buy a fur coat?" Alexei walks around the car to get in, "You would look very nice in sable. Or maybe you would like to relax in a spa...have a massage...for an old friend like you...there is nothing too good," Alexei gets in and starts the car.

"Driver?" I say seriously, almost not believing what I'm about to do.

"Colonel?" Alexei replies in kind.

"What's the fare to Chechnya?" I ask. Alexei looks back at me to judge whether I'm serious or not, I offer him a small smile; he mumbled a comment in Russian and pulled away from the curb.

1411 ZULU

RUSSAIN ARMY BASE

KHANKALA, CHECHNYA

Harm's POV

Captain Volkonov and I wait in the flight line next to a jeep waiting for Sergeant Zhukov. "Have you ever considered the obvious explanation?" Alex asks.

"General Krylov assigned Sergeant Zhukov to escort us, to soy on us, and then, finally, to have us killed."

"Now, how would the general know he's my brother?" Harm questions. "And why assign my brother to spy on and kill me?"

"If he is your brother," Alex glances toward me as Sergei comes out of a building and heads towards us.

"I don't know...I feel something," I answer watching the young Sergeant approach.

"You're a lawyer who feels?" Alex asks laughing, "Now you sound Russian."

Sergeant Zhukov offers a salute when he reaches us, "He's gone."

"Who were you looking for?" I ask curiously.

"Corporal Trapeznikov-General Krylov's communications clerk-the one who called me with the order to leave you at the convoy," he answers.

"And the only one who would know who ordered the armed escorts to abandon the convoy?" I ask becoming suspicious of the situation.

"Yes," Zhukov replies. "General Krylov has sent him away."

"Out of Chechnya?" I question again.

"Out of the Army," Zhukov says, "When he had ten months to go on his service."

"Ah, remove the witness," I deduce, "Where's his home?"

"He won't be home, yet," Alex answers, "He will stay for a few days up north at the Modzik Transit Camp."

"Let's go," I decide to clear this whole situation up.

1722 Zulu

RUSSIAN ARMY TRANSIT CAMP

MOSDOK, NORTH OSSETIA

Alex, Sergei and I had located our soldier singing drunkenly at the bar. We approach carefully. "Corporal Trapeznikov, right?" Alex asks him. He nods and says something in Russian.

"You must be happy about going home," I think knowing how I would feel about going home right now.

"Heeey...American," The drunken Corporal smiles my way, "In my English class, I sit next to, my most beautiful, Irina." He moves his arms down his body indicating Irina's beautiful body and makes some comment in Russian, eliciting a grin from young Sergeant Zhukov.

"How did you manage an early discharge from a war zone?"

"General Krylov's orders," the corporal says, trying to stand up to offer a mock salute, "He said I was the best clerk he ever had."

"So, why then, he let you go?" Captain Volkonov asks.

"I do not question the general," answers the young Corporal, "Especially when he's telling me to leave Chechnya."

"Well, do you question him when he sends his own men into an ambush?" I ask obviously getting the Corporal's attention.

"You are crazy!" he exclaims and gets up.

"Yesterday, a weapons convoy near the Inghushetia border was left without an armed escort," Captain Volkonov tells him.

"The convoy was attacked by Chechens," Sergeant Zhukov adds, "Everybody was killed. There is no one left of Eagle Platoon."

"Gregor Ivanovich?" the corporal asks, Sergei nods; the corporal cries and speaks in Russian as he takes his seat again.

"We knew each other since babies," he says in English.

"Did General Krylov order the escort elsewhere?" I ask trying to figure out whether our orders came from as high up as I thought.

"Yes," says the Corporal, "He told me to send it to find terrorists at Bamut. Then he told me to call Sergeant Zhukov to provide aerial reconnaissance."

"I went, there were no Chechens at Bamut." Sergei tells him solemnly; the Corporal broke down right in front of us.

"Corporal, did the general put the order in writing?"

The corporal lifts his head from the table and nods at me, "After I relayed it, he signed...and I filed it," he says before gulping the rest of his drink.

Mac's POV

"You are going to get us killed, beautiful Colonel," Alexei drove along a curving mountain road enroute to Chechnya, I would have told him long ago to stop considering my back was getting very stiff and these roads weren't doing much for my stomach, but all I could think about was getting to Harm.

"Think positive, Alexei," I order forgetting that he doesn't have to obey, "We still have a long way to go."

"Nobody goes to Chechnya unless they're crazy," Alexei thinks aloud, "Let's stop in Volgograd-hit the nightclubs, eh?...Oh, boy, now we are finished," he says pulling to an Army checkpoint in the road.

"Maybe they will shoot us here and save the Chechens two bullets."

One of the soldiers walks up to the car and asks for Alexei's license in Russian, Alexei responds back in Russian and hands the soldier a small booklet. "Is everything well?" Alexei asks the soldier in Russian.

"Destination?" the soldier asks back, also in Russian.

"Khankala Army Base," Alexei tells him.

"In Chechnya?" The soldier asks a little dumbfounded, "We have an order to stop a taxi from Moscow."

"It was a taxi, now it is my private business," Alexei lies.

"With a passenger?" the soldier asks, noticing me in the back seat.

"My mother's cousin," says Alexei, "Her husband is wounded, in the base hospital."

The soldier takes a step toward the rear passenger window and I roll it down, I speak in Russian hoping my accent is as good as I think, "Corporal, I miss him so much, I'm sure you understand."

"It is dangerous," The Corporal replies.

"I will take any risk for the love of my husband," I answer knowing it's the truth and pull about some bills to slip him some money.

He takes it, "How can I refuse such a beautiful and devoted wife?" He calls out for the other soldier to move the roadblock and let us through.

Harm's POV

"I got it," Alex says as we start walking down the flight line.

"General Krylov's order to divert the armored escort from weapons convoy to Bamut. It says Intelligence commander reported Chechen activity there."

"Bamut has been secure for months," Sergei adds bringing up the rear.

"Where is Intelligence Command?"

"Gudermes," Sergei answers.

"Well, if they reported no rebel activity, we have evidence against the General."

"Could you fly us to Gudermes?" Alex asks.

"Is Boris Yeltsin thirsty?" Sergei answers with his own question.

I leaned against the side of the car as Alexei dug through trunk and rolls the spare to the front. He looks worriedly down the road as large booming sounds can be heard in the distance.

"Is that artillery...?" he asks, "...Or the beating of my heart, beautiful Colonel?"

"Calm down, Alexei," I almost want to laugh turning to look down the road, too. "It's miles away."

"In the direction we are going," Alexei says, "It's not too late to turn around, we can be back across the border by night."

"Is that spare going to hold?" I seriously doubt this tire is as young as I am.

"Not against artillery," says Alexei.

"Just change it, Alexei," I order, "You can drop me off at the basin and then run back into Grozny-it's secure." Alexei looks curiously at the car jack and has no idea what to do with it.

"Have you ever changed a tire before?" I ask.

"I am executive," Alexei says, "I give (something in Russian) to street urchins and a few Rubles to take care of mechanical operations."

"Okay, okay, give me that," I reach for the jack but think better of it when my back spasms, "you are going to have to follow my instructions carefully. Let's see..." I point to the hole on the side of the car, "put it there and crank." I stand next to the car.

"My mother worked in biscuit factory," he comments. "She was a strong woman...like you."

"Thanks," I smile down at him; my smile disappears as a loud boom sounds again.

"This is a terrible country, beautiful Colonel," Alexei says nervously, looking down the road. "I insist, when we are finished, we turn around."

"No."

"Oh, be fair...please be fair," he begs standing up having succeeded in cranking the car off the ground, "You are prepared to die for Commander Rabb. I do not love him."

"I'm not here on a date, Alexei," she replies. "Commander Rabb is my husband, the father of my children, and a fellow officer."

"And how many artillery attacks have you driven through for him?" asks Alexei dryly. I point to the crank and he gets back down to continue.

Harm's POV

"Even if the Intelligence Command makes the general a liar, it's still a circumstantial case," Captain Volkonov says as we head to Sergeant Zhukov's helo.

"I've won many convictions on circumstantial evidence," I boast, knowing if Mac were here she would laugh in my face.

"Yes, but not against Russian generals in Russian courtrooms," replies Captain Volkonov.

Sergei was beginning his checklist and start-up sequence when a jeep with four Russian officers stops in front of the helo. Alex and I stand at attention; General Krylov hops out of the jeep and calls for Sergei to remove himself from the controls.

"Captain Volkonov, Commander Rabb, I'm embarrassed to report that our own escort is guilty of these crimes you are investigating," General Krylov says as the other soldiers pull a wooden crate out of the back of the helo.

"General...I have never seen that before," Zhukov points at the open crate of weapons.

"Selling these weapons, alerting the Chechen terrorists when he spotted an unguarded convoy, resulting in the deaths of seven brave Russian soldiers," the General lists a few of the Sergei's supposed crimes.

"General Krylov--" I step forward, to my brother's defense.

"Sergeant Zhukov, you are under arrest for corruption, for murder, and...for treason," General Krylov ignores my try, I have no choice but to watch helplessly as the General's soldiers take Sergei under arrest.

1721 ZULU

RUSSAIN ARMY BASE

KHANKALA, CHECHNYA

"They are going to shoot me," Sergei Zhukov says from behind bars.

"We don't know that," Harm says.

"I know it, our father was in jail, too."

"And he escaped and fathered you," I point out optimistically.

"I knew the Chechens might shoot me. I...I didn't think the Russians would," Sergei ignores my show of support.

"Nobody's going to shoot you," I insist moving toward the bars.

"At least the Chechens have some right," he says softly, "I have been ordered to do some terrible things. Some I have not done, some..."

"Look, Sergei, you can't think that way."

"Why not?" he asks, "I think...maybe I understand our father more than you. This war is like his war."

"No, not quite," I think out loud.

"A guerilla war?" Sergei questions, "A...a big power fighting people who only want to be left alone...soldiers who hide amongst the people so you have to kill the people? Do you think he ever wondered if he was on the wrong side?"

"No, I don't."

"Go back to America, my American brother," Sergei says angrily. "They will shoot me, there is nothing you can do."

"They have to court martial you first," I answer, ignoring his request, "Look, Captain Volkonov is going to defend you. General Krylov has given me permission to assist him."

"Why not? The judges will hate you," Sergei says darkly as Captain Volkonov enters.

"Did you find him?"

"The singing Corporal Trapeznikov?" the Captain asks sharply.

"Yeah," I don't think I could ask about anyone else.

"Our star defense witness got drunk and wandered into a minefield...BOOM!" answers Alex.

"How convenient," I say dryly.

"I am a lucky one," Sergei comments, "At least I get a court-martial first."

"Look, how much time do we have to prepare?" I ask, turning off the brother and turning on the lawyer.

"All we need-as long as we're ready by zero-nine-hundred," Volkonov says.

"Your motion for delay is denied, Counselor," says a Russian officer at Sergei's court-martial "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, Colonel," I speak up, "In accordance with Article 46 of the Russian constitution, which guarantees every defendant the right to an impartial tribunal, I respectfully request that this court-martial convene on another base with a different panel of judges."

"For what reason?" asks another Russian Colonel.

"The three of you have been chosen by General Krylov," I point out, "He brought these charges; he will also be called as a witness."

"You say we cannot be fair?" asks the Colonel, defensively.

"I'm saying that there is an appearance of improper command influence," I try explain tactfully, "In the interest of justice, this trial ought to be moved-"

"Why should we listen to an American tell us about justice?" the first Russian asks.

"We should just let the defendant go free? Like OJ?" asks the second officer, the two other officers chuckle. "If the peerchhtka don't fit, we must acquit?"

"There is a more compelling reason why this trial should be moved," I add something in my tone gets Captain Volkonov's attention, he looks up at me questioning, "The defense will present evidence that the true criminal is Colonel-General...Arkidy Krylov."

"Commander Rabb, you will now sit down!" the first officer exclaims.

"If you repeat that slander, you will be jailed." Volkonov just rubs his forehead in his hand and shakes it, while I stare at the Russian panel.

"We have been losing weapons to the terrorists at an unacceptable rate," says General Krylov from the witness stand at Sergei's court-martial, "It was obvious that one or more of our own soldiers was conspiring with them. Then my office received an anonymous message casting suspicion on Sergeant Zhukov. I only wish we had acted sooner."

"Why is that, Sir?" asks a member of the panel.

"A few days later, Zhukov flew Captain Volkonov and Commander Rabb to examine a weapons convoy. When he observed that it was unescorted by armor, he sent a radio message to the terrorists who attacked it and captured it." Captain Volkonov shakes his head.

"That, Sir, is a lie," I come to my feet, knowing that my physical stature was hard to ignore, "No such message was ever sent by Sergeant Zhukov."

"My communications clerk, Corporal Trapeznikov, heard it. He informed me," the General retorts.

"He told us that General Krylov sent a radio message ordering Sergeant Zhukov away to chase phantom Chechens," I answer.

"That is nonsense," the General denies my allegations.

"We have General Krylov's signed order," I hold up the military form.

"It is a desperate forgery," General Krylov dismisses it.

"It is witnessed by Corporal Trapeznikov," I reply just as quickly.

"Is the corporal available to testify?" asks the Russian Colonel.

"Unfortunately not," the General tells him, "He was killed yesterday."

"We will accept the general's testimony in his absence," says the Colonel, I sit down, disgusted by the lack of justice taking place.

Captain Volkonov rises, "Your Honor, just for the record, I object," he says and then sits back down.

"In addition," the General continues, "I witnessed first hand finding that crate of automatic rifles in Sergeant Zhukov's helicopter. They were stolen from the Kamyshev Armory and intended, no doubt, for the Chechen terrorists to use to kill our people."

"Objection, those weapons came from an armory controlled by General Krylov. He had them put in the helicopter," I rose again.

"I'm surprised, Commander, that you defend this man so zealously, since he did try to kill you," General Krylov comments.

"Kill me?" I question looking at Sergei and we share an intense look.

"He abandoned you and Captain Volkonov at the convoy," the General replies, "He must have been afraid that your investigation was pointing to him."

"You're saying that, for a few Rubles..." I turn towards the General. "...he would try to kill his own brother?"

"What are you saying?" the Russian Colonel asks confused.

"I proffer to this court that the defendant, Sergeant Sergei Zhukov, and I have the same father, Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Senior, who was shot down over North Vietnam and imprisoned in the Soviet Union for 11 years until his death."

"No American prisoners were ever brought to the Soviet Union," the Colonel blusters.

"If the prosecution asserts that the defendant intended to kill me, we have the right to prove he had no such motive, whether or not this-"

"You have a right to join your so-called brother in his cell!" exclaims the Colonel.

"I object," I reply strongly.

"To what?" demands the Colonel.

"To everything!" I reply moving around the defense table, "The obvious bias of this court, it's hasty assembly, the overwhelming command influence, the lack of due process, the disregard for the rules of evidence the absence of even the simplest elements of justice, and the rule of law." Captain Volkonov drops his head to his hand, shaking it in disbelief at my audacity; I was beginning to wonder myself.

"Objection denied," says the Colonel, I can't help but shake my head in disbelief.

"The defendant and counsel will stand," the Colonel orders, Sergei rises, "Sergeant Sergei Zhukov, on the evidence submitted on all charges, you are found guilty. You are hereby sentenced to death by firing squad." I look to Alex for help. The captain looks over to the Colonel.

"Colonel, we request a stay of execution pending appeal," he requests.

"Appeal denied," the Colonel says, "Sentence to be carried out at 1700 tomorrow," the gavel comes down on Sergei's death sentence. Sergei looks at me as he is escorted out of the courtroom.

1822 ZULU

RUSSIAN ARMY BASE

KHANKALA, CHECHNYA

"Sir, as commanding officer, you could set aside the execution of Sergeant Zhukov," I plead with General Krylov for the life of Sergei.

"You appeal to the true criminal?" General Krylov asks.

"Please excuse Commander Rabb, General," Captain Volkonov steps forward, "He was over emotional. If the defendant is his brother-I completely agree with you, Sir. That's why I respectfully urge you not to let any of this affect your decision."

"Sergeant Zhukov was tried and convicted in accordance to the Russian law," the General answers sternly.

"That is not true, Sir," I brashly disagree, "It was a farce."

"Was it?" asks the General. "Does the representative of the Moscow Procuracy concur?"

"I only wish to continue following the law, Sir," answers Captain Volkonov.

"Your appeal is denied," General Krylov says.

"General, if Sergeant Zhukov is my brother, that makes him eligible for American citizenship, Sir," I refuse to give up on the young Russian, "He could come home with me. You could exile him."

"And see him and you telling lies on ZNN on every television in the world?" the General jumps to his feet.

"What kind of officer are you? He's one of your own men. You know he's innocent," I question the General.

"Sir, the law authorizes a final appeal to the president of Russia," the Captain interjects, "We ask for a stay of execution so we can prepare papers for Moscow."

"Very well," General Krylov agrees after thinking it over carefully, "But it will not be necessary to prepare papers for Moscow. You can ask the president yourself this afternoon. He will be visiting the troops for their morale...or his. And when he is not too busy posing for cameras...I will arrange your appointment." The General sits back down in his chair and takes a drag off his cigarette.

"Why would he even let this appeal?" Sergei wonders, "Why let us our tell our story about him to the president?"

"Maybe you touched him with your emotion," Captain Volkonov says to me.

"Yeah, a man like that..." I scoff, thinking no one could appeal with an emotional side. A guard sticks his head in the door informing them of a visitor. He opens the door all the way allowing...

"Mac?" I ask, surprised to see her as she walks in, "What are you doing here?"

"When you go on a road trip, you really go on a road trip," she comments with a smile and glances at the prisoner. "I was planning on getting you out of here, but right now I'm trying to keep your children from being born," her teeth gritted as she grabbed my hand, before I could even process what she had said. "What's going on?" she asks.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie, this is Captain Volkonov..." I begin the introductions; Mac and the captain shake hands. "And Sergeant Sergei

ZZhukov...my brother." She looks from Sergei to me with a smile, she has to think joking. Her smile fades quickly though as she grips my hand tightly again.

"Your father...in Siberia," she says glancing at Sergei again; he offers her a wide smile. She's panting hard and I finally realize what she said earlier.

"You're in labor?" I ask moving behind her as she stats to slip to the ground. A military band begins playing outside.

"Sound like they are getting ready to greet President Putin," Captain

Volkonov comments.

"Here?" Mac asks surprised, "and yes I'm in labor have been for a couple of hours I think."

"What the hell are you doing in Russia anyway?" I ask, leaning her against the wall before helping her out of part of her uniform to check if she's dilated.

"There's a plot to assassinate him," she explains, grunting with a contraction, "General Krylov might be involved."

"Captain, why would Putin take the risk?" Mac asks, I didn't realize women could multitask while in labor.

"This is where the soldiers are," Alex explains, "He won the presidency by promising to win the war. Harm do you know what you are doing?" he asks as I strip my uniform shirt.

"Yes, I need somebody's shoelaces, do his security people know about this plot?" I change gears as quickly as the rest of them.

"Webb is in Moscow with Mark Falcon-they're working on it," Mac answers groaning as I watch the first babies head crown.

"Falcon?" I ask a little surprised, "Mac honey I'm going to need you to push."

"What does it matter?" asks Sergei. "General Krylov controls this base."

"Yeah and he's put us here next to Putin," I conclude, nodding to Mac, "that's good honey. I need another one."

Mac glances out the window, what she's looking for I have no idea, but as our first child slips into the world, she breaks my concentration on the baby, "The ambulance driver," she pants out of breath, "That's Vasily Rokotov. I saw him right before Commander Carlton was killed. He-he set off the car bomb by remote control." She glances up at me as I take the shoelaces Alex offers, "Well boy or girl?"

"Boy," I reply using my shirt to wrap him up and cut the cord with my pocketknife. I knew that they weren't identical so there could be hours between one delivery and the next.

"Guard! Guard! We need to get out of here!" Alex demands banging on the door, "we've got a woman and child in here."

The guard steps in with his weapon at the ready. He says something in Russian, causing Alex to move away from the door. "We are not the convicts, we're the lawyers," Captain Volkonov comments.

"Nobody goes out," the guard says, "Security for President Putin." Volkonov exclaims something in Russian and rushes the guard planting the heel of his hand into the guard's face, knocking him out.

"Mac..." I look up to her; she nods as I get up letting Sergei out of his jail cell, "Get out of here."

"But..." he starts to stop.

"Go at least get the ambulance away from the building, and then run," I ordered going back to Mac and our son. I sit next to them, "he's perfect."

"You should have gone with them," she answers.

"You two are more important," I reply wrapping an arm around them both, I trust them to get us out of this.

"Rokotov could blow this anytime," Mac objects.

"He won't until Putin gets close," I argue changing the subject, "he needs a name."

"He'll have one as soon as we get out of here," she tries to get up.

"Mac stay still, they'll come get us when it's over," I practically order, getting up looking out the window again.

"Hands up!" calls the guard approaching Alex and Rokotov after; Alex had knocked the remote from his hand. I could barely hear all the commotion from inside the cell.

"Sergeant, that man has a bomb," Volkonov holds his hands up.

"You helped my prisoner," the guard exclaims.

Meanwhile, Rokotov, taking advantage of the confusion above him, rolls over and grabs the detonator that landed on the ground when Alex punched him, and runs away with it. The guard continues about his escaped prisoner. Sergei chases him down in the ambulance until he stops. By now they are to far away that I can't understand them but watch as Rokotov holds up the detonator and Sergei just crosses his arms over his chest as Rokotov pushes the button. Nothing happens and Alex comes around from the back of the ambulance holding up some piece of the bomb. Soldiers come and apprehend Rokotov.

Mac's POV

"Well looks like you've got two healthy babies," Alex watches Harm and I from the hospital doorway.

"Captain Alex Volkonov and Sergeant Sergei Zhukov we'd like to introduce you to Alexandra Margaret Rabb and her older brother Aidan Charles Rabb," Harm introduced the two men to our children.

"They're perfect big brother," Sergei looks at the small bundle in pink, in Harm's arms.

"Would you like to hold one?" I ask looking towards both of them.

"I assume I can hold my namesake," Alex moves to Harm reaching for the baby in his arms.

"Of course," Harm hands her over watching Sergei, "you can hold Aidan little brother."

"I do not know much about babies," he answers shifting uncomfortably from one food to the other.

"It's easy," Harm replies, forming Sergei's arms to hold the baby, "Now just cradle his head in you elbow." I handed Aidan to him watching the Rabb men carefully. "See not so hard."

"No not really, but will you please take him before I drop him," Sergei hands the baby to Harm, "you'll be returning home soon, no?"

"Yes probably within the next week," I grinned, "you're coming back with us aren't you?"

"No I will stay here," Sergei responds leaving end the conversation.

Harm and Sergei stood in front of the airport while Webb pulled the two newborn seats from Alexei's cab. "You could go to college, study what you want," Harm tells Sergei; he's been trying since we finished everything with Rokotov to get him to come back with us. "You can choose the kind of life you want."

"The American dream," Sergei says, nodding to me when I handed a carrier to Harm, Alex snuggled safely within.

"It's not so bad," Harm glances at me and I give him a smile return, "And we would love to have you until you get yourself settled."

"He's a pretty good cook," I add my own incentive, "and I think these two need an Uncle around."

"Bear soup with cranberries?" Sergei asks.

"Well, maybe a vegetarian lasagna every now and again," Harm says smiling too, "We could eat out."

"Despite that," Sergei says. "It is very generous." He notices Clay, Mark Falcon, and Captain Volkonov walk up; he turns and salutes the Captain.

"We come from Lubyanka," Volkonov says. "General Krylov's telling interesting stories."

"The death of Putin was going to be blamed on a Chechen suicide bomber," Mark tells them.

"You can stick around and collect your medal," Clay hands me three plane tickets and then one to Harm, "Or take your flight back."

"First class?" I ask, looking over the tickets.

"Company upgrade," Clay explains with a smirk.

"Webb-" Harm says.

"Oh," he reaches in his coat pocket and pulls out a ticket and hands it to Sergei, "Gourmet meal, free movies, and a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie before you land."

Sergei looks at Harm, "You know I cannot," he says sadly. "I love you big brother and you take care of my sister-in-law and my niece and nephew."

"There is a Russian transport going to Grozny," Mark says. Everyone looks at him. "200 hung over recruits, eating salami and onions."

"You don't have to go back to Chechnya, Sergei," Harm says. "You did your duty, you served with honor. You can leave with honor."

"My friends are there," Sergei replies. "There is honor in staying with them until we all go home."

"Sergei, it's a dirty war," I tell him, balancing on my toes to give him a hug and a kiss on his cheek.

"Would he have left early if he had the chance?" Sergei asks Harm. Harm drops his gaze and slowly shakes his head. Harm holds out his hand, "Later...brother. Love you too, and don't worry about your family."

Sergei shakes Harm's hand, and then pulls Harm into a hug, "Until we meet again," the heartwarming scene between the two of them causing me to wipe a tear away. Sergei pulls away and offers Harm a salute, which Harm returns, before turning to Captain Volkonov.

Harm looks longingly and lovingly after his newfound brother. "Well come on, we've got a flight to catch," I let Harm take both baby carriers as we walk through the airport.

1700 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

WASHINGTON, D.C.

A large group of JAG staff awaited us as we came down from the large Boeing airplane. "Congratulations, you two," the Admiral greeted us as we reached them.

"Names?" Harriet asked, holding onto AJ's hand to keep him from bolting.

"Alexandra Margaret and Aidan Charles," I informed the group, "now I know this may seem rude but can we please go home, we've got to get these two to bed and I'm starting to fade myself.

"You heard the woman," Harm laughed as we headed towards the parking lot.

"Ma'am if it's alright, Tiner and I will grab your luggage and bring it over to your house later," Gunny asked.

"Sure," I answered following Harm to the parking lot in order to let Bud drive us home.

0700 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"I got it," Harm groaned pulling himself from the bed to check on whichever baby was voicing his or her displeasure at the moment. I sat up accepting the crying Alex from him and allowed her to nurse herself back to sleep. "This is beautiful," Harm whispered into the dark. Aidan had woken up as well although I was beginning to get the feeling he was the quieter of the two. Harm's arm snaked around my waist "I love you guys."

"We love you too," I replied, leaning into his side while Alex finished her meal and Aidan drifted off to sleep.


End file.
